Five Holidays and a Friday
by Kitty le Fay
Summary: The five kisses that Molly and Greg share before their first real kiss.
1. Christmas

"Look, Molly!" Mrs. Hudson slurs. "Mistletoe!"

Molly looks up, where a fresh sprig of mistletoe on a silken red ribbon hangs above and between herself and Greg Lestrade. She feels her cheeks warm as soon as she sees the way the older man looks at her. There's a mischievous smirk playing at the corner of his lips until he forces a nervous chuckle. She can't help but force one either.

They both know that their friends have done this on purpose. Since his divorce with his now ex-wife and her breakup with her now ex-fiancé it hasn't been unusual for their friends to joke about the two of them getting together somehow, but this time they've gone too far.

Naturally, the entire room–minus Sherlock Holmes, of course–chimes in and chants "Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!" with the occasional "Go on!" or "You know you want to!"

Greg looks like he might burst into uncontrollable giggles as he shakes his head. Molly forces back her smile and pretends that the glass of wine in her hand is more interesting. Eventually, the two share a look and shrug.

"Oh, sod it!" Greg says. "If it'll shut 'em up."

She agrees and they both go in for the kill.

At first it's nothing more than a mere brush of the lips. Knowing that their friends will not accept a quick peck, they linger a while. At some point it becomes deeper and as lips part to make room for tongues, their hands begin to explore one another. His hands snake around her waist and caress her frame while hers wrap around his neck and her fingers run through his short silver hair. She can feel his smile forming against her mouth as cat calls and wolf whistles echo through the room. They ignore their cheering friends and continue to enjoy the closeness between them, having been practically starved of it for too long.

Then it's over.

There's an applause followed by more cheers and wolf whistles from their friends. They only laugh it off as if it's nothing more than a joke played against them, though the won't dare to admit how much more they crave.

He walks her home at nearly two in the morning. They don't snog, grope or even hold hands. All they do is talk until they reach her flat, where they bid their farewells.

"Happy Christmas, Molls," he says. "See you New Year's, I suppose."

"Yeah," she nods. "Happy Christmas, Greg."

He doesn't kiss her on the cheek in hopes for one on the lips. She doesn't invite him inside for a coffee that they'll never have. They don't say anything until her door is closed and he's around the corner.

"Shit," they both say to themselves. "Shit, shit, shit!"


	2. New Year's Eve

Between Christmas and New Year's Eve there isn't a single word between them about last week's Christmas party. If anything at all, it's simply shrugged off as a holiday tradition combined with a group of relentlessly fiendish friends.

They're invited to the Watsons' place for a dinner party for New Year's Eve and while they aren't surprised to see one another, the tension between them is practically corporeal. Molly's red dress and Greg's loose tie do no help. Over drinks, dinner and dessert they talk and joke about this and that, but don't dare to touch on what happened under the mistletoe.

All too soon, the countdown begins.

Ten. The countdown begins as they find themselves staring at each other after what feels like hours of awkward small talk and are only now confronted with reality. They haven't spoke outside of work since Christmas, so standing this close to each other on New Year in the middle of a crowd is more than a little awkward.

Nine. They look to the crowd of friends and lovers closing in on them. Each and every one of them know exactly who they'll be kissing for midnight.

Eight. There's no one with him and no one with her. The champagne makes Greg bold enough to asks Molly if she has anyone to kiss for midnight. She tells him there isn't, but she doesn't tell him why. She is internally begging him to make his move the way he did last week.

Seven. "It's a shame," he says. "You look great."

Six. "Thank you. You too."

Five. There's that warm glance again and this time it lasts for what feels like a month within a moment. Greg breaks the awkward silence.

Four. "Do you…d'you think we should just…?"

Three. Molly doesn't hesitate, but tries her best onto to sound desperate when she answers: "Yes! Yes…I, I think we should."

Two. He chuckles. "Anything to shut 'em up, eh?"

One. She forces a laugh and nods as they lean in towards each other.

"Happy New Year!"

Had their courage been kinder to them it would have been a similar kiss to the last, but instead it's nothing more than friendly pecks on cheeks. After a platonic hug and "Happy New Year," they smile and applause the coming of 2015, saying nothing else of it even after they wave goodbye when the party is over.


	3. Burns' Night

"So, will you be at the pub tonight?" he asks.

The question comes out of nowhere and for a moment she thinks he's asking her out. If he is, she thinks, is the morgue really an ideal place to ask someone out for drinks? And over a dead body?

"Sorry?"

"It's Burns' Night," Greg explains. "You coming?"

Molly mentally kicks herself in the backside for getting so distracted today of all days.

"Oh, god," she sighs. "I'm so sorry, Greg. I wish I could, but I've just got too much to do. I've got a mountain of paperwork to do before I have to pay a visit to my brother in rehab, then I've got to get a world of shopping done, then pick Toby up from the vet's…"

He stops her before she can say any more, but doesn't touch her.

"Hey," he says. "Molls, it's okay. I was just going to offer you a drink if you were free. If you're too busy or if you just don't want to go out, that's fine."

She sighs. "Sorry. There's just too much on my shoulders right now."

He nods. His smile is soft and it almost makes things easier.

"Look," he says, laying a warm hand on her shoulder. His touch sends butterflies swirling in her stomach. "You don't have to apologize for anything. We all get those days. Hell knows _I_ do, but if it helps at all, why don't you catch a break some time? Soon as you're done all that, drink some wine, watch a film or do whatever it is you do when you let loose. Just don't be too hard on yourself, yeah?"

The smile playing at Molly's lips is impossible to fight back. She nods and Greg smiles back when she tells him: "Yeah."

"Good," he says.

Greg leans towards Molly and lays a warm kiss in the middle of her forehead. It's a brief kiss that only lasts three seconds and does not promise to be anything more than what it is, but it still manages to make her heart quicken along with the butterflies in her stomach. She can feel how warm he is even from a foot away and it makes her feel so much safer from the cold January air outside.

When it's over they share a smile before he heads to the door.

"Take care, Molls."

For a moment she wants to stop him, tell him that she hasn't got any paperwork or shopping to do, that her brother has been sober for three years, that Toby is at home waiting for dinner or anything else but: "Bye, then."


	4. Valentine's Day

Valentine's Day is not Molly's most beloved of holidays and nor is it Greg's.

Molly has only ever enjoyed three Valentine's Days in her lifetime. The first was with a boyfriend from uni called Adam, who bought her dinner at a cheap restaurant near the campus and then took her to his dorm where they had sex for the first time. He came out of the closet two months later. The second was with Jim, who also took her to dinner and to bed and also came out of the closet not to long after. He also bombed London citizens, stole the Crown Jewels, broke into the Bank of England and organized a prison break at Pentonville. The third was with her ex-fiancé, Tom, who bought her a bottle of expensive champagne, made a delicious meal, made love to her before the fireplace and then proposed to her. If only she'd loved him in the way he did her.

All others have consisted of a bottle of wine, a box of chocolates, an old movie and a night in with her cat.

Greg, on the other hand, has had plenty of enjoyable Valentine's Days in the past, many of them with his ex-wife. Their first Valentine's Day was their first date, followed by their first time. In their "courting days" each February 14th became more and more embellishing until he proposed. Marriage didn't change the event until after the miscarriage, a good three years after their daughter was born. That's when the affairs started. They had an argument about it on their last Valentine's Day, which was supposed to be a peaceful evening between the two of them while Meg was at a sleepover with her friends. Their divorce was finalized just three weeks shy of Valentine's Day.

Since then his Valentine's dates have been glasses of scotch and a game.

"Here's to being single," they toast.

They share their single woes over drinks at the pub, where they agreed to meet as friends after work. Every now and then their conversation is laced with light touches and innocent flirtations, all of which are shoved under the rug even after he walks her home.

"This is me," she says. "Thanks for making Valentine's Day more enjoyable."

"Hey," he shrugs. "It's all right. Thought you could use a friend on a day like today since…well…"

She nods and there's an awkward silence between them. Perhaps the wine has made her braver than she's used to, but she stands on tiptoe and kisses his cheek.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Greg," she says and heads inside before he can respond. Once she's inside she is unable to fight the proud smile playing at her lips. She doesn't see Greg walking home with a smile on his face.


	5. St Patrick's Day

It's St. Patrick's Day…well, it was. It is now two in the morning and the alcohol has made them both bold enough to sneak outside without even so much as a word. It all seems a blur to both of them; one minute chatting over a pint of Guinness and the next heavily flirting as if they're a pair of reckless twentysomethings at a friend's party. Before long her back hits the alley wall and his hands are firm on her body.

It's nothing like their previous kisses, let alone any kiss shared between friends. There is no tenderness or shyness between them and there is nothing romantic or even remotely friendly about it. It is rough and passionate, almost angry, as if everything they've had to say to each other and never did has burned them from the inside out.

In time they part for air, but it doesn't stop him. His right hand explores her body while the other props up against the wall to keep his balance as his body presses against hers. His mouth is hot on her neck and she can feel him swelling against her stomach. He wants her. The very thought makes her shudder and she's surprised by her own boldness when she licks his jawline and sucks on his earlobe, raking her fingers through his hair. She's almost as drunk on his touch as she is on the alcohol and it is nothing short of pure bliss.

At some point they stop and, brow to brow, catch their breath before asking whose flat they'll be staying in.

"Molly…"

The creak of an opening door stops him from saying anything. Immediately he steps back three feet away from her, stuffing his hands in his pockets and doing his best to cover his hardness with his jacket. It's as if they've only been talking.

"Greg?" calls a slightly sloshed Sally. "Last round. What're you two up to?"

"Just talking, Sal, I'll be a minute."

As soon as the door is shut, the tension between them is painful, but they say nothing. There is no word of this or the previous kisses they've shared, nor even an apology for pushing away. Instead, Molly looks to her feet, straightens her jacket and walks away.

"Molly, wait!"

"I'll see you tomorrow, Greg."

"Molls, I'm sorry. I…"

But she is already gone. Greg swears under his breath several times. He can't remember the last time he's cursed himself this much, but this time he's really made a mess of things. When he gets home he thinks long and hard on how to clean things up.


	6. Friday

It's been a long day, but at least it's a Friday. Molly thanks the heavens above that she has the weekend off and her plan is to enjoy it. No thoughts of work, friends, family or even Greg Lestrade; just wine and old movies. After buying the wine she's relieved to be only a few steps away from her flat, but her heart sinks into the pit of her stomach when she reaches it.

Greg Lestrade stands at the door, holding a small, but beautifully wrapped box in one hand and waves hello with the other. The smile that he gives her only vaguely resembles the one she's used to seeing on him.

"What are you doing here?" she asks.

"I thought I'd drop of your birthday present."

"Greg, my birthday is in July."

"I know. I just wanted an excuse to see you."

The thought of it makes her flush as he offers her the box, asking her to open it. Placing her bags down, she rips open the paper, opens the box and gasps. Inside is a simple silver pendant in the shape of a heart, plain but beautiful.

"Greg, I…I don't know what to say."

"Then don't say anything," he tells her. "Look, Molls, I know that I've been a dick, lately, what with Christmas, New Year, Burn's Night, Valentine's Day and that amazing night on St. Patrick's. I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry. Can you forgive me?"

Molly looks to Greg, to the pendant in her hand and then back to Greg.

"What brought this up?" she asks him.

"Dunno," he says. "Got sick of waiting for the right time, I suppose."

"What do you mean?"

He shrugs, stuffing his hands into his pockets and looking to his left and right like a nervous teenager asking a schoolboy crush to an upcoming dance.

"I kept waiting for the right time to tell you I feel about you," he finally admits."Molly, I've been in love with you since that Christmas party at Baker Street three years ago. I didn't say anything 'cause I was married at the time and with everything else that was going on I could never find the right time to tell you how I felt about you. I just got tired of waiting and…well, here we are."

Her heart jumps and she stares at him with eyes as wide as saucers. She struggles to find words, though he looks as if she's about to slap him.

"You…you love me?"

He nods. "Yes."

Molly can no longer fight back the smile growing on her face. She steps towards Greg, wraps her arms tightly around his neck and kisses him. It takes him by surprise, but he is not hesitant to kiss her back.

"I love you too, Greg," she says.


End file.
